A Stylistic Analysis of Kate Chopin’s “Story of an Hour”

Jeremiah Z. Reston
Bachelor of Science in Secondary Education Major in English
University of Southeastern Philippines
Introduction
Kate Chopin's short piece "The Story of an Hour" is about a wiped out spouse who quickly
trusts her significant other is dead and envisions a radical new existence of an opportunity for
herself. And afterward well, we're not going to ruin the closure for you here.
Chopin's accounts have been perused increasingly throughout the years – and this piece is
no special case – despite the fact that her most well-known work, The Awakening, remains the
standard against which her different works are estimated. However, contemporary gatherings of
people would have perused "The Story of an Hour," distributed in Vogue magazine in1894
(source), an entire five years previously they would've gotten their hands on The Awakening.
Thinking back, it's quite fascinating to consider Chopin's works showing up in Vogue. This
is what it said about Chopin: "MRS. KATE CHOPIN—A delightful lady, whose picture neglects to
pass on a tithe of the appeal of her expressively dazzling face, has been a respected supporter of
Vogue nearly from its first number. . . . Mrs. Chopin is brave in her selection of topics, yet
wonderfully refined in the treatment of them, and her scholarly style is a model of curt and
completed expression."
I. Lexis

The prose is written in a simple yet complex in the way it interprets the emotions the
character conveys, one proof of this is that the prose itself is ironic to the subject of the prose. The
nouns presented are proper nouns which makes it readable in order to reach a wide range of
audiences. The excessive use of adjectives creates an atmosphere of rebirth; it is as if someone has
been brought to life again. The author used certain adverbs to create distinction and comparison to
things that are in nature which makes the prose interesting to a point where it becomes realistic.

II. Grammar

The prose itself is written in a manner in which makes the reader think it is happening in
real time though some words are written in past tense it is still narrating in real time. Each sentence
has its own complex structure.

The readers and the author realize that Mrs. Mallard had effectively encountered a
possibly "gigantic delight" prior, alone with the learning of a lost mate and the free life extending in
front of her. Which "euphoria" is progressively "gigantic"? What's more, would could it be that truly
murdered Mrs. Mallard? Is it true that she was cheerful? Amazed? Awfully disillusioned? All
things considered, the storyteller surrenders that question over to you.
III. Foreground Features

The storyteller's depiction of Mrs. Mallard demonstrates somebody who dismisses the
ideas of adoration and even the best of relational unions for the magnificent thought of
unadulterated opportunity. Then, the general population around her believes she's sobbing
hysterically over her dead spouse. Truly, however, she's diminished to be free. Nobody
comprehends her. Toward the finish of the story, the specialists concur that she more likely than
not passed far from a sudden stun of extraordinary satisfaction from discovering that her better half
lived all things considered: from "euphoria that slaughters".

IV. Context and Cohesion

The story's extremely structure is based on amusing juxtapositions. The components that
will later crush Mrs. Mallard would all be able to be found in the plain first passage: Realizing that
Mrs. Mallard was distressed with a heart inconvenience, incredible consideration was taken to
break to her as delicately as conceivable the news of her better half's passing. Her wellbeing, the
relating state of delicacy, and the peril of sudden news are altogether featured. Twistedly, Mrs.
Mallard winds up arranged for her better half's demise, yet not his life. You may see that this
sentence is written in the uninvolved voice: "extraordinary consideration was taken" to tell Mrs.
Mallard the news. The general populations who deal with Mrs. Mallard along these lines, however,
aren't referenced until the following passage.

Furthermore, Chopin's entire composition style in this story is somewhat of a bother. She
powers the readers to fill in the spaces. Consider, for instance, the manner in which she portrays
the finish of the story. Mrs. Mallard is descending the stairs when her better half, who should be
dead, strolls in; the couple's companion Richards endeavors to move between them to shield her
from continuing a conceivably savage stun. The storyteller basically says, "Yet Richards was past the
point of no return". What Richards is "past the point of no return" to do, accurately, is left to the
reader's creative ability.

The following passage basically peruses, "When the specialists came they said she had
kicked the bucket of coronary illness – of satisfaction that executes". Between "past the point of no
return" and "When the specialists came," Mrs. Mallard has kicked the bucket. However the exact
subtle elements of her demise go unmentioned; the emotions she may have had go undescribed.
This is unexpected thinking about how point by point the storyteller has been in imparting to
readers the emotions Mrs. Mallard had been encountering alone in her room. Presently, in the
most stunning snapshot of her life, no one comprehends what Mrs. Mallard feels.
 References
Shmoop Editorial Team. (2008, November 11). The Story of an Hour. Retrieved December 5,
2018, from https://www.shmoop.com/story-of-hour/

Biography, Kate Chopin, The Awakening, The Storm, stories. (n.d.). Retrieved December 5,
2018, from https://www.katechopin.org/biography/

The Awakening, Kate Chopin, characters, setting, questions. (n.d.). Retrieved December 5, 2018,
from https://www.katechopin.org/the-awakening/

Ihsaniy, Q. (n.d.). Analysis of Short Story : The Story of an Hour & The Tale-tale Heart.
Retrieved December 5, 2018, from
http://www.academia.edu/7216818/Analysis_of_Short_Story_The_Story_of_an_Hour_and_The_
Tale-tale_Heart

(n.d.). Retrieved December, 2018, from https://archive.vcu.edu/english/engweb/webtexts/hour/

 APPENDIX
Artifact of the Study

The Story of an Hour

By Kate Chopin, (1894)

1. Knowing that Mrs. Mallard was afflicted with a heart trouble, great care was taken to break
to her as gently as possible the news of her husband's death.
2. It was her sister Josephine who told her, in broken sentences; veiled hints that revealed in
half concealing. Her husband's friend Richards was there, too, near her. It was he who had
been in the newspaper office when intelligence of the railroad disaster was received, with
Brently Mallard's name leading the list of "killed." He had only taken the time to assure
himself of its truth by a second telegram, and had hastened to forestall any less careful, less
tender friend in bearing the sad message.
3. She did not hear the story as many women have heard the same, with a paralyzed inability
to accept its significance. She wept at once, with sudden, wild abandonment, in her sister's
arms. When the storm of grief had spent itself she went away to her room alone. She
would have no one follow her.
4. There stood, facing the open window, a comfortable, roomy armchair. Into this she sank,
pressed down by a physical exhaustion that haunted her body and seemed to reach into her
soul.
5. She could see in the open square before her house the tops of trees that were all aquiver
with the new spring life. The delicious breath of rain was in the air. In the street below a
peddler was crying his wares. The notes of a distant song which some one was singing
reached her faintly, and countless sparrows were twittering in the eaves.
6. There were patches of blue sky showing here and there through the clouds that had met
and piled one above the other in the west facing her window.
7. She sat with her head thrown back upon the cushion of the chair, quite motionless, except
when a sob came up into her throat and shook her, as a child who has cried itself to sleep
continues to sob in its dreams.
8. She was young, with a fair, calm face, whose lines bespoke repression and even a certain
strength. But now there was a dull stare in her eyes, whose gaze was fixed away off yonder
on one of those patches of blue sky. It was not a glance of reflection, but rather indicated a
suspension of intelligent thought.
9. There was something coming to her and she was waiting for it, fearfully. What was it? She
did not know; it was too subtle and elusive to name. But she felt it, creeping out of the sky,
reaching toward her through the sounds, the scents, the color that filled the air.
10. Now her bosom rose and fell tumultuously. She was beginning to recognize this thing that
was approaching to possess her, and she was striving to beat it back with her will--as
powerless as her two white slender hands would have been. When she abandoned herself a
little whispered word escaped her slightly parted lips. She said it over and over under hte
breath: "free, free, free!" The vacant stare and the look of terror that had followed it went
from her eyes. They stayed keen and bright. Her pulses beat fast, and the coursing blood
warmed and relaxed every inch of her body.
11. She did not stop to ask if it were or were not a monstrous joy that held her. A clear and
exalted perception enabled her to dismiss the suggestion as trivial. She knew that she would
weep again when she saw the kind, tender hands folded in death; the face that had never
looked save with love upon her, fixed and gray and dead. But she saw beyond that bitter
moment a long procession of years to come that would belong to her absolutely. And she
opened and spread her arms out to them in welcome.
12. There would be no one to live for during those coming years; she would live for herself.
There would be no powerful will bending hers in that blind persistence with which men
and women believe they have a right to impose a private will upon a fellow-creature. A kind
intention or a cruel intention made the act seem no less a crime as she looked upon it in
that brief moment of illumination.
13. And yet she had loved him--sometimes. Often she had not. What did it matter! What
could love, the unsolved mystery, count for in the face of this possession of self-assertion
which she suddenly recognized as the strongest impulse of her being!
14. "Free! Body and soul free!" she kept whispering.
15. Josephine was kneeling before the closed door with her lips to the keyhold, imploring for
admission. "Louise, open the door! I beg; open the door--you will make yourself ill. What
are you doing, Louise? For heaven's sake open the door."
16. "Go away. I am not making myself ill." No; she was drinking in a very elixir of life through
that open window.
17. Her fancy was running riot along those days ahead of her. Spring days, and summer days,
and all sorts of days that would be her own. She breathed a quick prayer that life might be
long. It was only yesterday she had thought with a shudder that life might be long.
18. She arose at length and opened the door to her sister's importunities. There was a feverish
triumph in her eyes, and she carried herself unwittingly like a goddess of Victory. She
clasped her sister's waist, and together they descended the stairs. Richards stood waiting for
them at the bottom.
19. Someone was opening the front door with a latchkey. It was Brently Mallard who entered,
a little travel-stained, composedly carrying his grip-sack and umbrella. He had been far
from the scene of the accident, and did not even know there had been one. He stood
amazed at Josephine's piercing cry; at Richards' quick motion to screen him from the view
of his wife.
20. When the doctors came they said she had died of heart disease--of the joy that kills.